Don't Tempt Me
by Reda
Summary: In which Romano, questioning his faith versus the feelings in his heart, makes a challenging choice for what to give up for Lent. Spain does not approve, but when Lovino's virtually cut off all ties with the Spaniard in order to better observe his fasting choice, what's Antonio to do? /Spamano/
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes****:**

-Today – or yesterday – was Ash Wednesday, the first day in the Lenten Season. For all those Catholics out there, you know of what I speak. It was in the middle of the night, working on my research paper for my English class, when this idea hit me. (Actually, I was driving to the nearby gas station and I started giggling, thinking of Italy and Romano in church and Italy's like "so what did you give up for Lent, Romano?" and Romano grumbles, "tomatoes," and I proceeded to have a giggle fit in my car. Anywho – enjoy - because it turned into something a lot less funny than my original plans.

-Culture reference? Italy (the actual country) is very, very Catholic and Spain (again, the actual country) is only just a little less Catholic, though I think Italy is statistically (if you count going to Mass and participating in religious observances) the MORE Catholic of the two but, hey, I go with it. I'm an American Catholic myself, so I apologize profusely if anything in this fic offends anyone. I figure I'm allowed to make fun of my own religion.

**Warning****:**

-Religious talk. I'm Catholic. Italy is major Catholic nation. I can't help it, really. Learn about Lent everyone! Whoo!

-Rating may go up. As of now, it's undecided T. I honestly was planning to make this a one-shot and then a story bloomed in my mind. Damnable imagination ruining my one-shots.

**Pairings****:** Spamano-centric; may include GerIta, but eh, definitely gonna be Spamano centric.

**Summary****: **In which Romano, questioning his faith versus the feelings in his heart, makes a challenging choice for what to give up for Lent. Spain does not approve, but when Lovino's virtually cut off all ties with the Spaniard in order to better observe his fasting choice, what's Antonio to do?

~!~

Don't Tempt Me

Prelude

~!~

"So, what are you giving up for Lent, _fratello_?"

Romano nearly spat his drink out everywhere at the question. For one, they were in public, having a nice dinner after celebrating the Mass and Ash Wednesday observances (and he was _starving_ after having fasted all day). Being in public, he would have assumed Veneziano would know better about asking that specific question, especially after the disaster of last year. His brother may not have a problem running around telling everyone what he was giving up, but _he _certainly did. First off, it was nobody's business thank-you-very-much. And secondly, he wasn't about to _tell_ these _humans_ how he was giving up a certain activity with a certain someone. _Thirdly_, the very _mention_ of it was about to drive him insane with need and didn't Feliciano know _why_ he had hidden his phone the other day?

...or why he had been talking nearly non-stop to that Spanish bastard the other day...or spent the whole weekend being almost clingy...

Well it most certainly wasn't because he was going to miss the bastard, that was for sure! This was a good thing for him. He was Catholic. He shouldn't be so head-over-heels for another man anyway, even if he was a nation, too. The Pope would not have approved. Well, the Pope was stepping down – what the hell was that about anyway? But he was pretty sure any Catholic figure would not have approved of the male nations romping around with each other all the time.

...if only they knew the half of it...

Still, he was currently sitting with his overly energetic brother at a table in the church's reception hall. They were visiting the people. Like they always did on special seasonal observances. And their particular table was absolutely enthralled with anything Veneziano said. Of course, everyone always was, weren't they?

...except now they were waiting for Romano's answer.

He glared at his brother. Not that he'd been paying attention, but giving up one kind of pasta was no where _near_ as challenging – or secretive – as Romano's personal choice for the season. Or the video games that the kid had chosen. Or the sweets that the woman had decided on. Or even the porn that the young man had been quite honest about being addicted to...

Slouching back in his chair, Lovino grumbled out his answer in the vaguest way he knew how. "Tomatoes."

The people at the table stared at him like he was crazy and Veneziano even laughed. "What? But you love tomatoes, don't you? Why give that up? Didn't you do that a few years ago?" There was a pause and a strange look crossed his brother's eyes, like a bit of an understanding, and then a much quieter, "Does Antonio know?"

Romano glared harder, if that were possible. "No, he doesn't, and why should he? It's none of his business and it's none of yours either! And I'd _appreciate_ it if you stop tormenting me." - _you fucking bastard._

He wanted to scream at his brother, but they were in public. In public. In church. He had given up cursing one year (not that it lasted the whole season, but he'd done pretty damn well for all the lack-of-support he had). Every time they went out, he had to calm himself, to force it all down, to settle for glares instead of shouted insults. And _every time_ the humans _much preferred his brother_.

Of _course_. It was _never_ any different, was it?

Finally deciding that he was unable to handle this torture anymore, Romano stood, pushing his chair back, having finished his meal a long time ago and been trapped waiting for Veneziano to finish his little visit. Besides, Feliciano cared much more about understanding his people than Romano did. After all, Feli was the one _really_ in charge of the country so what did Romano even care about what they thought of things?

"I'm taking a walk. I'll see you back at the house, _fratello_."

Feli stared at him, then smiled and nodded. "Si~" He chirped, his usual happy, bouncy, always-fucking-happy self.

Without another glance to the humans, Romano turned tail and left the building. He gave a nod to the priest. Fought the urge to scratch at his forehead because of the ashes that were now there. Of course, thinking about it made it even more difficult, but he persevered and focused on other things. He tried to forget about any thoughts of a certain Spanish bastard, but Antonio had always been his go-to thought whenever he was trying to forget something unpleasant...

_No, fucking hell, tomato bastard, get out of my thoughts. I'm Catholic! And you're supposed to be Catholic, too! What's wrong with you? It's a sin! It's a fucking sin! How can you always stand there and smile at me when you know what we're doing is wrong..._

He froze, leaning against the sign just outside the church, fighting the tears that threatened to hit his eyes. The torment. The raging battle. He _knew_ it was wrong. He knew it was a sin. He knew it wasn't right, wasn't natural, wasn't what God wanted, but...he still...

_...how come I still want you?_

~!~

The next day, Feliciano Vargas was spending all his time in the kitchen, wondering what he should be cooking. He had given up Fettucine all'Alfredo this year. A certain pasta he had grown to especially love over the past few months and been quite obsessive over, so he'd decided to curb down the obsession by throwing it off the menu list, at least for the season of Lent. Germany had once suggested he give up pasta in general, but that was such a horrendous thought, he had immediately insisted that it was difficult enough giving up even one _kind_ of pasta – and that he chose which type based on his most recent addiction. That way, he never ever came to love just _one_ type of pasta; he could never forsake all the other goodies out there, now could he?

His thoughts were occupied by other things as well, such as his brother. After last night, Romano had disappeared for most of the night, taking what Italy assumed as a very long walk. Lovino finally returned home late in the night, but his eyes had been puffy and red like he'd been crying. Feliciano never asked about it, knowing his brother wouldn't talk about it no matter how much he pushed. Only Antonio seemed able to make his _fratello_ speak up sometimes.

...which was what really worried him. If he had been correct – and he was quite sure he was now – that when Romano said 'tomatoes' what he meant was 'the tomato bastard' then...he was worried for their relationship. What could have Romano so tormented that he would decide to go and give up a _person_ for Lent? And not just any person, but _Spain_.

_Why?_

He wanted to ask, the question was burning in his brain, but he knew he wouldn't get an answer. And after Romano's clipped growls and glares and _please-excuse-me-I'm-leaving_ of last night, Veneziano was quite sure his brother would only close up more if he was pressured.

So what could he do but call Spain? Maybe Antonio would be able to understand Romano's decision. Or maybe he could convince Lovino that it was a silly thing to do.

With this in mind, Feliciano pulled out his address book and grabbed the kitchen phone once he found Antonio's number. He was surprised when it picked up after the first ring. "Ah, Lovi~ You never call from the house phone. Ready to come over now?"

Italy blinked at first, mouth open but frozen because he hadn't been expecting Spain to answer in such a way. Then he had to remind himself. This was the house phone, not his cell phone. Caller ID would pick up the number that Antonio was sure to have, but it could have been either of them calling – and why would Feliciano call?

"Ve, big brother Spain, this isn't -"

"Oh, Ita, _lo siento_. I did not expect you to be calling. How are you doing?"

Spinning around in the kitchen, feeling his kitchen apron twirl like a dress, Italy giggled a little. It was always hard not to smile around Spain or when hearing his ever cheerful voice. "Ve~ I'ma making pasta."

"Oh?" Antonio chuckled. "What kind?"

Feliciano brought a finger up to his lips, tapping it lightly. "Ah, I haven't decided yet."

Spain laughed again. He always had been fun to talk to. So cheerful and easy to laugh, no matter who he was around. He seemed to find the littlest things funny, as if he were watchful of every little moment. And so easy going. Sometimes, Italy wondered what life would have been like if Spain was his true big brother and not Romano. Not so many angry words, that was for sure, but he had grown to understand Lovino's dirty mouth and curses as his curious way of affection. Apparently, so had Antonio.

"Then what did you give up this year, Ita?"

"Fettucine," he mumbled, "but that's not why I called you." He forced himself to be still and serious, leaning against the kitchen counter even as he toyed with the phone cord. "It's about my _fratello_."

Spain's voice was instantly worried, the laugh dropping as easily as it came. "Did something happen?"

"No, not exactly," Feli bit his lip, trying to think of how to phrase this. "It's about what he decided to give up for Lent."

"I'm listening..."

Feliciano took a breath and decided this was for the best. Yes, Lenten sacrifices were meant to be personal. They weren't meant to be shared. But this was important. This was serious. This was...it wasn't what he'd been expecting from his _fratello_ and it worried him. Because Romano was _so happy_ when he was with Spain.

"I think...he gave up _you_."

~!~

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo fell against the sofa, feeling his chest burn with an unexplainable pain. Leaning back against the soft cushions, he tried to reason through what he had just heard. He nearly dropped the phone. Feliciano was quiet on the other end, though he could pick up an occasional "ve" as the Italian breathed into the phone.

His mouth felt suddenly dry and his hands were shaking. Why was he so upset? It was such a ridiculous reaction to something that he should have expected. Romano was always going off about silly things that he didn't really mean. He would always complain about everything Spain did. Always call him names, like stupid tomato bastard. Always trying to push him away. Like he was afraid of something. Like something was bothering him.

He should have expected this to happen at some point, right?

...but...

"He gave up...me," he repeated, the phrase sounding strange and surreal even now.

Why? Why would he do that? Why would Lovino suddenly push him away so _hard_, so _forcefully_. Did he really see their relationship as a sinful addiction? Was it really something to hate? To push away? To give up?

It didn't help when Feliciano basically voiced his own thoughts. "Si~ Why would he do that?"

Apparently, even Feli was looking for a reason for the choice, which meant Romano hadn't confided in his brother before making this decision. Which made perfect sense. Lovino didn't confide in anyone. He was stubborn about making his own decisions without any help from anyone. But it hurt. It _hurt_ to know Romano had taken it this far.

"I don't know, Ita. This last weekend has been the most we've ever spent together. The most we've ever..." _well, Ita doesn't need to know **that**... _"And on Tuesday he insisted on being on the phone all day and almost all night, too; he even fell asleep with it still on."

It wasn't until Feliciano sucked in a quick gasp of breath that Antonio understood. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his leg and a hand tugging at his hair. He'd been splurging. Romano had been stuffing himself with as much time as he could take with Spain before the Lenten season could begin. He'd gorged himself to near bursting.

...and then cut him off...

Antonio let out a groan, then a curse, then gave a not-really-hopeful request. "Can I maybe talk to him?"

The Italians were very serious about their religion – whereas Spain was more lax on some issues – but he allowed a little touch of hope. Feli gave him a 've' of an _i'll try_ and Spain held his breath as he waited to hear Lovino's voice over the phone. He still couldn't believe it. He wasn't really expecting Lovi to take the phone, either. If it really was his choice to give up Antonio for Lent. Spain blinked as he waited, wracking his brain, trying to think how it was possible. Who gave up a _person_ anyway? Wasn't that a little ridiculous?

Still, he waited for Romano to answer. He wanted it. He wanted to speak to him. He wanted to understand. He wanted to have this all explained to him. But, he knew having Romano actually pick up the phone now would be a miracle. It would be...

"Look, tomato bastard, you can't go tempting me."

Antonio blinked and stared into the distance at the sound of Lovi's voice. It _had _been a miracle. He _had_ taken the phone. He _had_ decided to speak with him. So, what -?

"Hey Lovi~" He laughed, though it was rather forced at the moment; he still didn't want Romano to think of him not smiling. "I heard you gave me up for Lent, but I guess that's not true – otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me, huh?"

He got a growl and a curse in response. "Idiot, that's not what I meant!" There was more, but it was mumbled, a little too much for him to pick it up, and then Romano spoke clearly again. "Still, you have to stay away. Otherwise you tempt me, you fucking bastard."

"Tempt you?"

"Si, you bastard! Just stay home and don't come over here! And don't even try to call me! I already hid my phone!"

Then there was a click and a dial tone and Antonio had the sick feeling in his stomach that this was the last he would hear of Romano for a long, long time. Why? What had he done? He had been sure that their relationship was at a new high. He had been sure that he was doing everything right. So what had he done wrong? When? When did Romano start doubting?

_And...why?_

~!~

_A/N: I apologize for it being so short, but all the chapters in this story might be around 2500-3000 words. It's less than my normal, but, hey, stories write themselves and sometimes they bring long drawn out moments and sometimes they're short and sweet...or...not so sweet. Then again, this is just more of a prelude, so, eh, we'll see, won't we?_

_My main focus is my PruCan series, and now I have so many multi-chapter fics in the works that it's ridiculous. I got a request (from Chibi Emperor - mini shout out to you!) for a Spamano fic with lots of smut and character development. Regretfully, I don't see this story as having lots of smut seeing as the whole conflict is based around the idea of /not/ having sex, so I couldn't offer this up as a filled request for that reason. At least here's some Spamano, eh?_

_History-ish? Considering it's in the past now?_

_-Pope Benedict XVI resigned from office on February 11, 2013, the first to do so in 600 years._

_~~I appreciate all reviews/alerts/favorites/etc and I hope you enjoy~~_

_~Reda_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Notes:**

- Ah, wow, what a wonderful reaction. I wasn't expecting much, to be honest. First time writing a purely Spamano fic, after all, and although I've written them before (In the "One Month" storyline), it just isn't the same.

- School makes me busy like you wouldn't believe, and I was planning to update for Valentine's Day but that kind of got...ruined...so the first part of this chapter is for Valentine's Day. Hah. Well. Go back in time with me?

- I once did some research on coffee or tea preferences around the world (for my PruCan fic). I know for sure that East Germans like their coffee, and that Canada tends to prefer tea over coffee for the most part. I'm pretty sure America is coffee centric, too. We all know England likes tea (that's the bloody stereotype, eh?). Spain loves coffee, as does Italy. For some reason, as I was writing, I decided/discovered that Romano doesn't get this whole tea/coffee one-or-the-other thing. Eh. The random things I learn.

- Also, minor correction. Pope Benedict XVI announced resignation on the 11th, but officially resigned on the 28th of February. My bad. ;P

**Warnings:**

-The first part of this chapter is a little...mmm...suggestive. Should I put the rating to M? Not sure...

~!~

Don't Tempt Me

Chapter 1

~!~

_Heat, everywhere. Panting. Couldn't get enough air. Couldn't calm the heat. Had to find release. Burning._

"_Lovino," a whisper by his ear. A breath across his skin. A touch in his hair._

"_Nng..." _

_Couldn't speak. Still fighting for air. Wonderful, painful burning everywhere. In his lungs. In his face. And still elsewhere._

_Wanting to shout, wanting to demand more, but only his eyes could speak. Only his eyes could get the need, the desire across. Green eyes answered him. That look. That smile. _

_Antonio..._

~!~

Romano awoke gasping for breath, sitting up in the bed, clutching his covers in a tight grip. Sweat beaded down his face and he reached up with an arm to wipe it off. His fingers tangled in his hair. The dream still playing through his mind, making his breathing quicken, making his heart race, making his face flush.

Tomato bastard had taken over his thoughts.

It wasn't fair. He'd have to say a prayer for the very thought, for the very dream run wild. That his mind could conjure such images was only proof of his addiction, his obsession. He was doing the right thing, giving it all up. He _knew_ he was doing the right thing, even if it hurt, even if it was hard.

Sexual attraction for the same sex was not inherently sinful. No, after all, one could hardly explain how or why someone was attracted to someone else, so whether it was a defect or the truth – it wasn't his fault. However, sexual intercourse with the same sex, getting married, dating, accepting the attraction as normal and forming a union, _anything_ that could be considered acting on said attraction...that was the sinful part. As some groups had started saying: _being _gay wasn't a sin, _acting _on it was.

That was the Church's stance, so that was how Romano should live, too, right? If he wanted to be a good Catholic. And he wanted to be good. His people were strongly Catholic. He should be just as devout. The fact that his brother did not see it as seriously as he did, well, that kind of grated on his nerves, but at the very least _he_ would follow the rules.

Still, the thoughts were there, the dreams were there, and his flushing face was getting harder to control the more he thought about it. And it was only the second day of Lent! With a scowl he threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. He _would_ get control of this. Snatching his rosary from the nearby dresser, Romano pushed all thoughts of Antonio the tomato bastard out of his mind, focusing instead on his devotion to God, asking for help, asking for the right course of action, asking to quell the pain in his heart...asking why he had to carry such a heavy burden...

And then Veneziano crashed through the bedroom door. "Romano~ Something came for you in the mail~"

At first he scowled at his brother for interrupting his early morning routine, but Veneziano was one to wake up early. Just as Spain was an early riser – but someone who took a long nap after lunch. Then he blinked and stood up, wearing his sweatpants and a tank top that he normally wore to bed. Something had come for him? In the mail?

Why – what – who?

"It doesn't say who it's from and we're sitting down here so curious, so won't you come down and open it?" Feliciano continued, practically bouncing from foot to foot as he waited at the doorway.

Romano glared over at him. Didn't he know it was rude to ask someone to open their mail? As if he would be opening it in front of everyone anyway. He wasn't a child! Even if Veneziano wanted to act like one, that didn't mean Romano did. He was a proper grown up and could take care of himself and liked to keep things personal thank-you-very-much. It was like this with _everything – _from sharing what they were giving up for Lent, to opening mail in private or around each other, to reading letters out loud, to -

_Wait, did he say we?_

"Who else is here?" Lovino growled, having a pretty good idea.

"Ah, Germany came by," Feliciano said, still smiling and almost hanging on the door. "It's Valentine's Day, Romano."

Feeling his eye twitch, Romano snapped. "That doesn't mean you should allow him in here! This is my house, too!"

Another thing his brother did that annoyed him. How dare Feli be _happy_ with another man and _still claim to be Catholic_. It wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_. How could his brother be completely okay with his decision? How could Feliciano hang around the German, date him, _love_ him...and yet Romano had to deal with this tug of war in his mind? Whereas Lovino was trying to be good, Feliciano was almost flaunting his sin.

.._.in their house even!_

"Ve~ But it's more my house and I wanted Germany to stay. Don't you want Antonio to visit?"

Romano glared at him. Sucked in a breath and let his eyes do most of the talking. He could feel his entire body trembling when he responded. "Don't. Mention. The tomato bastard. Ever. Again."

Veneziano gaped, stepping back, and then staring at him sadly. "Oh, Lovino, you don't have to -"

"Can you not just do _one thing, _Veneziano? Just one thing! That's all I'm asking from you!" He didn't mean to snap at his brother; he really didn't, but with all the turmoil in his heart, he did not want to deal with the looks and the _pity_ that his brother kept sending toward him.

When Feliciano didn't respond, Romano growled and pushed his way past his brother. _Fine. If he wants me to open the mail in front of him and his stupid German bastard, then fine. As long as I don't have to deal with them bugging me about Antonio, I don't care. _

Walking into the living room, Lovino looked up with a growl to see the German bastard sitting on the couch, sitting in front of the coffee table, having made a pot of coffee the moment he arrived, probably. Though Romano was pretty sure his brother loved creating different coffee drinks and cappuccino, he knew the German would never give up having his coffee simple and black. Only Prussia was worse when it came to his coffee addiction. Prussia or America, he wasn't sure.

Personally, Romano would be fine with a nice glass of wine. All this coffee or tea nonsense tended to get on his nerves. It was like the rest of the world had to have this huge debate and competition over which drink was better. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't just be happy with a glass of wine in the morning. Not for the purpose of getting drunk. (Wine was certainly never fun to get drunk from, because those hang overs were a _pain_). No, a glass of wine in the morning was a nice, perfect little...

Romano froze before sitting down in the room, standing at the edge of the smaller couch – the loveseat. Germany wasn't drinking just _any_ coffee. That smell would be recognizable from anywhere. The bastard had found Spain's stash.

"What are you doing?" He growled.

The scent alone was making him want the Spanish bastard. He shouldn't be wanting the tomato bastard so badly. It was only the second day! Second day! He should be stronger than this! Clenching his hands into fists, he glared at the blond-haired German who had taken his brother into a world of sin. Glared and fought the urge to punch his lights out, but he didn't feel like causing a scene. Feli wouldn't like it if he caused a scene on Valentine's Day. Besides, the German looked...well...damn bastard was built like a tank...

"Feli wanted to see you open the mail," the potato bastard said with a shrug, taking a drink from his cup of coffee – from _Spain's_ coffee stash.

With a huff, Romano crossed his arms and flopped into the loveseat, still glaring at the German as Feliciano came waltzing into the room. "Si~ Romano, open it~"

Finally noting the package sitting on the coffee table, Romano grumbled some more obscenities and reached for it, having to take the scissors – so conveniently placed on the table – to cut through the packing tape. Once the flaps were open, he could see the gifts, and he froze. A stuffed bear holding a red heart with the cheesy "I love you" words written in white – written in Spanish of course.

His brother made his annoying "veh" sound as Romano pulled the bear out of the package. He could see Feliciano bouncing on his feet out of the corner of his eyes, but he ignored it. Such things were easy to ignore when he lived with the hyperactive man. It was the other gift that made his toes curl, made his breath catch. A CD. A stupid CD of all things. At first, he was confused, but upon picking it up and reading the back, he felt his face hit up considerably.

...it was all the Spanish guitar songs that Antonio would play when...well...it was the music he would place in his stereo when they...

Holding onto the CD tightly, Romano had half a mind to crush it between his fingers. His breath caught in his throat and his face felt ridiculously hot. He could hear Veneziano beside him, asking what it was, what it meant, who was it from? As if it wasn't obvious, the bastard. He had an urge to cry. To fling everything across the room. To rant and rage and vent and...and...fucking...bastard...

_I can't stop thinking about him. The second day and he's already making it impossible. It's not fair!_

"Lovi~"

At the voice, he really did freeze up. He heard a gasp from his brother as Feliciano practically jumped up and moved away, as if trying to give him space. Of all times to give him space... Keeping his face down, Romano absolutely refused to acknowledge the new presence that sat down beside him. He wasn't there. It wasn't fair. He couldn't...why...?

"The door was open so I let myself in, huh?"

A hand touched his arm and he felt the shiver rush all the way across his body, up his arm, across his shoulders, down his back, touching everywhere before coming back up. He clenched his teeth. Still refused to look up. Refused to acknowledge how red his face was, how much he wanted to explode at the world, how much he wanted _not_ to banish the thoughts that kept invading his mind.

"Hey, Lovi, it's Valentine's Day. I don't care what you gave up. I had to see you."

Chancing a glance, Romano saw the red roses now sitting on the table beside the open box, as well as a collection of chocolates and candies. Antonio always went all out. Something about how he was the country of passion.

His face went even redder at the thought of passion. Fucking bastard really did deserve that title. Not that he was thinking about it...not that he wanted to think...or do...or...

"Fucking bastard, I told you not to come here," he snapped, throwing his eyes to the other side, annoyed at how his hands were getting sweaty and his grip on the CD was slipping.

Arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close. His body couldn't decide whether to push the bastard away or accept the embrace. Temptation. It was strong. It was hard. It was...

"Oh, Lovi, shouldn't you talk to me before deciding something so harsh? What did I do?" Antonio's voice was right by his ear, making his whole body tingle.

His scent. His touch. His voice. Everything was such a bad temptation. His heart was hurting. Aching. So much. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fall into the embrace; he wanted to turn around and accept it; he wanted to run up to his room and drag Antonio with him and do dirty things under the covers. But...there was...so much...

In a rush, he tore himself away from the Spaniard's grip, jumping to his feet. Breathing heavily, he finally faced those green eyes, fighting every feeling he knew, nearly falling to pieces when he saw the hurt. He didn't want to hurt Spain. He didn't want that at all. But...this decision...it was necessary. This relationship wasn't right. It wasn't _right_.

"Fucking tomato bastard, you're tempting me! It's not you – it's me! Would you just go away and leave me alone?" He almost threw the CD in Spain's face, a little amazed that he was still holding the thing, but he couldn't seem to let it go.

As green eyes stared up at him in hurt and confusion, Romano bit his bottom lip and ran. Racing back to his room, he slammed the door, locked it, and then fell against it, sitting down and curling up. His heart was beating hard and fast in his chest, hurting at having to confront his temptation directly like that. Oh, how he wanted to just throw his faith to the side and let his feelings rule him. But it just wasn't the right thing to do. Even if he wasn't really the country in the same way Veneziano was, at the very least he wanted to have some connection to the people. Through faith. Through the strong bond of following the Catholic faith _to the letter_.

But it was _so hard_.

And Antonio was only making it _worse_.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone to suffer? Why did they have to make it so hard on him? Why did he have to carry this burden?

Tears were in his eyes again. The second day and he was still crying over it. Stupid. Ridiculous. Weak. It pissed him off. Staring down at the music collection on the CD in his hand, he felt like screaming again. He wanted to throw it across the room. He really did, but he couldn't seem to let it go. His hands were shaking and his eyesight was blurry now, but he kept staring at the CD case, at the list of songs, the guitar melodies written specifically for him. All for him.

...why did life have to be this unfair?

~!~

Antonio sat on the couch for a long time, still stunned at Lovino's outburst, at his cold, harsh words, at his tension whenever being hugged. He had half expected Romano to throw the CD at him; in fact, he could have sworn the idea crossed those eyes. But the man never did throw anything except his words, and then he ran off to his room presumably, slamming the door in his anger.

The words were still echoing through Spain's mind, as he sat there and stared off into the distance. Ludwig and Feliciano had left the room the moment he appeared, as if they both had the sense to recognize what Spain could not. Now, the two remained elsewhere, and at the moment, he didn't care too much. Those two had no problem. Ita didn't seem to have the same issue that Romano was now facing...the issue of their faith.

Spain had long ago reconciled his desires with his faith. Whatever anyone wanted to say, he was devout in his own way, too, but both him and Feliciano had decided that _love_ meant _love_ no matter who you felt it towards. Why did Romano have to believe otherwise? Antonio had always seen Romano as someone who cared little for authority, so why this sudden conflict...why now?

How was he supposed to get Romano to understand? Would he really just have to sit and wait until Lent was over? Sit and wait and be without Lovino for a whole season? Forty days – or however many it was technically – until Easter?

..._I suppose I have no choice...we're nations...I can wait forever if I have to...but..._

Letting a sigh lose, Antonio stood up from the couch, leaving the gifts on the table, hoping Lovino would come down and take them eventually. Walking into the kitchen, he tried to force a smile for Ita and Germany, but quickly discovered that his usual spark was missing and the smile refused to show. Blue eyes were gazing solemnly back at him, and, without a word, Spain shrugged and glanced away. It wasn't something to pity. It was just a sad decision.

To have happiness and then lose it. But it wasn't forever. Lovi would come back. Lovi would understand; he would realize; he _would_ come to his senses and be at peace the way Antonio and Feli were; you _could_ be Catholic and gay, no matter what the rules or expectations or humans wanted to say about it. They were nations. They had different rules, different expectations, different connections.

...he just had to believe in Lovino coming to the same conclusion.

_Please, Lovi. You're making a mistake, but I'll wait for you._

"I'll wait as long as it takes," he mumbled, seeing both Feli and Ludwig nod, as if they, too, had experienced a moment such as this in their relationship.

For all he knew, they had. And so when Ita spoke up, it was with the best hope he could have offered. "Ve~ Luddy waited for me, and I came back, so I'm sure..."

A smile flitted across Antonio's face; he could feel it, small as it was..."Gracias, Ita."

...hope.

~!~

_A/N: Bleh. I honestly had half this chapter finished on Valentine's Day. Ah well. Expect a time skip to more present day on the next chapter! Ah, so much religious talk and...well...my opinion on how the nations would handle their feelings for each other and reconcile with their faiths. Just saying, that thought has been through my head so many times while shipping these characters. _

_-Also, I want the imagined CD of Spain's guitar love songs ~ ahhh ~_

_~~Thanks for all reviews/alerts/favorites; I appreciate them all and I hope you enjoy~_

_~Reda_


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